The Last Free Tribe Hengest and Horsa
by WillieHewes
Summary: Life on the edges of Kain's empire is unpleasant. Vampire captain Anders loses two of his sons when they are captured by humans. He will have to take on his master's pride to get them back.
1. Prologue

It rains in sheets, in torrential waves, as if the sea has accidentally found itself in the sky and is trying to get back down. Water runs in muddy rivers through the streets of the old ghost town of Tottery. The cottages and farms are dilapidated, disused. Walls have fallen down, the roofs that have not given way to the elements completely are leaking. An old steel plow groans under the atmospheric violence. The pool surrounding its dulled blades is the colour of rust.

In the window of one of the few houses that still has a roof, there is a man, staring out at the edge of the village. He looks young, just into the years of manhood, but his eyes betray his true age. They are cold and weary eyes, eyes that have seen too much rain, for far too long. Inside the house there is angry grumbling, but he ignores it. He watches, and listens. The raindrops explode on the windowsill and disperse into a fine mist, but although his skin itches, he holds his post.

"Why so nervous, sir?" a young, female voice within asks.

"Because, my dear Inge, if they have half a brain between them, they will attack us now." This seems to stem the flood of cursing and swearing that has been pouring from the assembled warriors within, some twenty men, packed closely together under the occasionally dripping roof. "They know we are here, caught out, stranded by the storm."

"Anders!" The voice from the rickety attic is the kind that demands attention. It belongs to a sinewy figure with long dark hair, dirty and spiked like wet animal fur, and features sharp as razors.

"What?" the man at the window asks.

"They have half a brain between them."

"How many?"

The vampire's eyes track to the side, as though he is remembering something. Lightning lights up his face momentarily, and immediately afterwards, a loud crack of thunder shakes the little house to its foundations.

"All of them," Horsa answers when the noise dies down.

Anders turns away from the window brusquely. "The village square, backs together, and don't let anyone break formation!" he roars over the thunderous sound of the rain, and turns up the hood on his cloak made of oiled leather, designed to protect against the worst of the rain. He leads his men out, shouting to the other sagging buildings that house his troops. "Backs together! Backs together and stay together!"

But disaster strikes before they have even completed their out-turned circle. A muscular figure with short white hair turns into the main road and comes running at them at full pelt, the hordes of raging, dripping mortal dogs at his heels. He was the one on lookout, he spotted them and warned his brother, whose thoughts he shares. He could have outrun them, but he slips in the slick, streaming mud of the main village road and falls.

"Hengest!" His name pierces the dark, wet air as the tide of frenzied mortal men washes over him, beating him down, stabbing him with their primitive weapons. Horsa charges them, careless of danger, careless of strategy.

"Horsa! No!" Anders wants to dash after him, but is grabbed by the man next to him.

"Not you too," he says, and Anders is forced to watch, powerless, as Horsa takes on the mortal army by himself, cutting a swath to where his brother is being trampled into the mud. A deafening clap of thunder drowns out the noise as the two sides meet in blood. The human army surrounds the wide circle of vampires and hack away at them with the abandonment of rabid wolves.

The vampires defend themselves, cutting down their opponents when they can. All they have to do is hold position. They are vastly outnumbered, but they cannot fall  not as long as they have their companions to pick them back up. They struggle against their instincts, and hold each other back when necessary. The circle ripples, but remains intact. As long as there is enough blood flowing, the rain and the wounds they receive are little more than an annoyance.

And the blood flows like water.

The ground around the vampire's circle is littered with bodies. Inside the circle are but two vampires who are not getting up soon: one has lost an arm, the other is impaled by a vicious, barbed spear that has lodged itself into his heart. They are the only casualties, the rest is still standing, and fighting with unabated mettle. It is not long now before the eagerly awaited cry rings out in the village square.

"Bak! Bak!" The humans retreat, slowly, still fighting savagely.

"Get them!" Anders roars as they start to run, and the vampires pursue them through the streets, hacking them down whenever they can, following them out into the fields, to the Aht, the shallow river that borders the human territory. The humans plunge into the water and wade to the other side. Soon, they are gone. The forest swallows them: a roiling mass of dark green leaves and branches, shaken by the storm and battered by the torrential downpour.

Anders stands at the edge of the ford, staring into the boiling wood, softly cursing the stars and their ill-advised meddling. Fate has been cruel to him today.

Hengest and Horsa are gone.


	2. the awakening

_Horsa?_

_Here._

_What... I can't..._

_Stop trying to move, we're bound._

_Pain..._

Hengest opened his eyes, carefully, blinking against the light. When his eyes adjusted he realised that it was fairly dark here, dank green light filtered down through the canopy above. Horsa was right, they were bound. His arms and legs were spread out and tied securely to the limbs of a wooden cross. Just in case the ropes would not be enough to hold him, large-headed iron nails had been driven through his wrists and ankles, in between the bones, his feet twisted cruelly inwards. It was a dull, constant pain that was added to by his viciously gnawing hunger.

_Yes, we're in pain. Try not to move, it makes it worse._

Horsa was beside him, strung onto a similar X-shaped frame and similarly impaled with four large nails. His clothes were shredded and wet, his skin was flaking where the rain and damp had raised welts. His hair hung limply over his face like black, dead grass. The skin underneath was burned so badly he looked like a leper.

_Horsa! Great Kain, what have they done to you?_

Horsa turned his head. One of his eyes was bloodshot, the other didn't seem to open properly. Hengest flinched in sympathy. Getting water in your eyes was one of the worst pains he knew.

_You look like something out of a nightmare!_ he said silently, sending his thoughts directly into his brother's mind.

_Yes, well, your own good looks are not entirely unaffected either, my heart,_ Horsa whispered back.

"Ah, vampiri, you are wake!"

They turned simultaneously to the broadly grinning figure in front of them. He was dressed in furs and rough leathers; his wild mass of hair and an impressive length of beard added to the impression he was some kind of animal, rather than a human. His features were darkned by dirt.

"Kal di Erilari!" he shouted at some men behind him, and they took up the cry, barking at each other in their muddled, incomprehensible tongue.

_Where are we?_ Hengest asked, ignoring the increasing excitement.

_We think this must be the human settlement,_ Horsa answered. Hengest looked around. It wasn't what he'd expected, but he knew his brother was right. This was their village. It was pitiful. Tiny little huts dotted the permanent dusk of the forest, built on poles and large branches. Rough wooden beams were tied together with rope into platforms, walkways and bridges. Everything had been built in the trees, and from the trees. Large, oily leaves covered the roofs, and ferns and vines covered the walls, dripping from support struts and roofs, creating the impression that the whole groaning, sagging construction had some kind of terminal, dark green disease. Beneath them, through the gaps between the beams, the swamp water could be seen, stagnant and more deadly than any of these savages.

_Is this all?_ Hengest asked doubtfully. _Is this what they defend so desperately, what we risk our lives for?_

Horsa made no answer; he could have asked the same question. The platform in front of them was filling up rapidly with fur-clad mortals, babbling among themselves like a flock of sparrows. Hengest could barely catch a word they were saying. Suddenly, the crowd parted, and a short, spherical creature waddled out in front of them.

_Great Kain! What is that?_

It was a woman, perhaps. Her belly and hips were grotesquely round, girded with a vestment made of scraps of leather, fur, feathers and bones. Her hair looked like rats' tails, with birdskulls and fishbones tangled in it, seemingly as decoration. Her breasts were uncovered, empty, flaccid sacks of skin that hung low on her belly. They had been painted with large, blue spirals. Her face, which looked crumpled and shrunken, showed the same adornment.

_That must be the Erilari,_ Horsa answered dryly.

_What in the name of Kain does that mean?_

_We don't know._ Horsa said. _But she's carrying a knife._

The creature was indeed holding a long, sharpened sliver of bone in her crooked hand, and stumbled up to Hengest, babbling something incomprehensible.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, baring his fangs.

"Tona sondastoni," she mumbled, and reached out to him. He struggled against his restraints, growling in frustration.

_Stop it, Hengest, don't show them fear,_ Horsa whispered.

_We are not afraid!_ Hengest snapped back.

"Ruhi vampyr," the creature said, her hands hovering in front of Hengest's face.

_That's right,_ Horsa whispered, commanding, _so be calm._

Hengest stopped struggling, and merely snarled as the woman reached out and grabbed his ear. With a surprisingly swift flick, she cut it from his head. Hengest cried out, indignantly. _My ear!_

She waddled over to Horsa.

_What are they doing?_ Hengest asked, miserably. Horsa bared his teeth and spat in her face. Unperturbed, she cut off his ear too, and wiped the spittle from her cheek with her knife, adding it to the crumpled mass of cartilige and flesh in her cupped hand. A large kettle had been brought forward, seemingly filled with bog-water. Something dark green and bulbous hovered below the surface, like a giant eye. The crowd stood back, respectfully quiet, as she stumbled over to it.

_I don't understand this, what's going on? _

Horsa had no answer. _There, on the right, do you see him?_ he asked.

_Oswald._

He was the current leader of the swampdwellers, a proud man, well-respected by his people, and even, begrudgingly, by his enemies. He wore a leather vest with a vast collar of fur. Around his neck was a string made of finger bones, large finger bones; some had claws on the end. His hair was wild and unkept, but he did at least shave, which made him look slightly less bestial than most of his warriors.

"Say, you," Horsa called.

"Human," Hengest added. It was their usual mode of address for him. "What kind of madness is this?"

"What are you doing?"

He ignored them completely, staring in fascination at the monstrous woman, who had dunked the ears into her kettle. She did not stir it, but simply looked, mumbling rhythmically to herself.

_We would guess that they are working some kind of spell,_ Hengest started, hesitantly.

_Perhaps they are preparing us as a sacrifice to their strange Gods,_ Horsa suggested.

_Does that mean they'll kill us soon?_ Hengest turned his head to look at his brother. Horsa glanced at him with his bloodshot eye. There was nothing but a sickly knot of flesh on the side of his head, where his ear had been.

_We hope so._

_Yes._

"Halada!" the woman called suddenly, throwing up her arms. She turned and pointed at the captured vampires. "Dey is di forspelde wergeld," she said. "Di teem is endlig da. Dey sal oos bring uhr lahnd!"

_Did we get any of that?_

_"They shall bring us our land,"_ Hengest answered.

_Yes. What does that mean?_

Now, the human warlord stepped forward, and bent down to be kissed by the soothsaying woman. He turned to the gathered mortals. "Dis is di dai!" he declared. "We sal uhr lahnd get, so as was promis. Disa tow sal oos bei uhr frei staht, wat mi forfater let sina lifa for." The crowd cheered loudly.

_Did he say "_buy_ us our free state?"_

"Human!" Horsa called. The warlord ignored him.

"We sal dat mak," he shouted, "and we sal stan fast genst di vampiri." He pointed angrily at their captives.

_No... just kill us... Please,_ Hengest thought out loud.

"Min bredder," Oswald continued, sweeping his arms wide for a bold proclamation, "dis is di begin das endes das teems des vampiris!"

The crowd cheered and clapped their hands, and there was a high-pitched ululation from the women.

_He's not exactly short on ambition, is he?_ Horsa asked.

_Or on stupidity..._ Hengest cleared his throat, which felt dry as dust. The ache from his many wounds was hard to ignore, and fuelled his hunger, which was edging towards his pain limit. "Human!" he shouted, the full weight of his anger and pain in his voice. "You are a fool, Human!"

"The Lord will never bargain for our lives," Horsa added.

Oswald turned to them, slowly.

"He would not bargain for his own son!" Hengest said.

"You are wasting your time."

"And ours. Just do the honourable thing and end this."

"Now. Kill us. What use is our suffering to you?"

Oswald showed them a thin smile. "Vampiri wat ask for gnade," he said and the crowd laughed mockingly.

_That's unfair,_ Hengest complained. _We show mercy, when appropriate._

Oswald leaned in close to them. "You're wrong," he said in a low voice, "he _will_ be willing to pay for your lives. I know how important you are; I saw the look on his face when you fell." Although the warlord could speak the normal language, he had a heavy accent, as if he couldn't quite remember what the words ought to sound like, even though he had grown up speaking them.

"These lands are not his to give away," Horsa explained. _Poor Anders,_ he added silently.

"But he will make it happen, now that I've got you," Oswald said. His hope diffused him with an almost feverish glow, and Horsa found himself thinking he was quite attractive, in spite of the dirt, and the hair. He must be hungry indeed. "And as for your suffering," Oswald continued, "I assure you I derive no pleasure from it. It is simply necessary, for our safety."

"You need our ears to keep you safe, do you?" Hengest snapped. His patience with the world was growing very thin indeed. Oswald ignored his question.

"Teka di vampiri sum husa bandas," he barked. "I don't know if the age of vampires is coming to an end or not," he told his captives, "but I'm going to get these people their land, just watch me."

"We'll be watching," Horsa growled threateningly.

_If we last that long,_ Hengest added silently.

_Be strong, my heart._

The wooden crosses were unfastened by a large group of loudly shouting men, who started to manouvre them precariously across one of the walkways.

_Oh, just drop us,_ Horsa growled.

_The swamp seems like such a sweet end now,_ Hengest agreed.

_They will kill us in the end. _

_I feel as though I were dead already. So dry... I feel as if nothing could sate this thirst._

Horsa stared at the canopy above them, so thick that an eternal, moss-coloured twilight reigned here. He closed his eye quickly when he realised water was still dripping from some of these branches. He wished to reach out to his brother, touch him, comfort him as he always had in the past, but he could do nothing.

_Patience, my heart. Let us not lose our dignity before we lose our lives._

_I'm not sure I can,_ Hengest answered, and Horsa knew he was crying. _I hurt..._


	3. 3

The rushing of the river was the only sound. The two armies faced each other across the ford, on one side, the fur-clad, feral human tribe, on the other the proud band of Razelim. The human warlord waded through the stream, and climbed on top of a large boulder in the middle of the ford. He grinned at his enemies. He had called this meeting, and so it was held at midday. Some of the vampires wore hooded cloaks, but they showed no other sign of discomfort. The crowd parted and captain Anders strode through, right up to the waterline. His first knight Jules stood behind him, to his right.

"Vampire! I knew you would want to meet," Oswald shouted in his strange, barking accent, and bowed.

"Human," Anders greeted, and bowed slightly less deeply, and without taking his eyes off his enemy.

"I have happy tidings for you, Vampire. Your two warriors are safe and sound, and I, the gracious lord Oswald, am willing to return them to you."

There was a slight rumble from the men behind Anders, and jeering from the opposite side. Anders waited for the noise to die down.

"And what would be the price for your generosity, gracious lord?" he asked sceptically.

Oswald laughed. "Do you know the village of Tottery, Vampire? It's not very large, but it's nearby. I think you should remember the place, considering the defeat you suffered there so recently..."

Oswald grimaced impatiently. "Yes, I know the place, what of it?"

"That shall be the price," Oswald declared triumphantly.

"Don't try our patience, Human," Jules shouted. "You know we never..." He stopped, as Anders had raised his right hand to silence him. The human warlord grinned a yellow-toothed grin.

"Suppose we agree with this," Anders said, "what then?"

"Then we all have something to celebrate," Oswald answered, suddenly sincere. "With land to till and cattle to raise we no longer need to _persuade_ your subjects to help us. All will live in peace. We will be no more trouble to you, and you can leave the swamp for good."

Anders was silent. He ignored the slight whispering behind him.

"Let us end this stalemate, Vampire," the warlord said, not unaware of the effect his words had on the gathered troops. He knew how they hated this place. "This way, we both win, yes?"

A silence fell between them, the rushing water of the ford the only sound. The two armies glared at each other across the water, an accurate metaphore for the endless struggle that had them both trapped.

"A week and a day from now," Anders said finally, "at midnight, you will return here, and you shall have your answer!"

Oswald bowed and Anders simply turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Someone grabbed his arm. Jules.

"You know he will deny you. Again," Jules said. Anders nodded.

"Yes, probably." He shrugged. "Ah, who knows, maybe he'll be in a good mood this century."

Jules smiled sadly.

"Do me a favour Jules; while I'm gone, don't do anything stupid," Anders said.

"Like you did?" Jules asked with a gentle smile.

"Yes," Anders sighed. "Like what I did."

  

_It's him._

_Oswald._

_We don't talk to him._

_There's no point._

"My vampire friends! Good evening to you," Oswald mocked. Hengest and Horsa avoided his eyes. They were still bound to the wooden crosses, which were now set up against the wall of what appeared to be the main storage hut. They were surrounded by large jars of flour, corn and dried fruits. There were even some pickled meats and dried fish. Most of it stolen from villages supposedly under protection of the Razelim.

"I have happy news for you," Oswald continued, and when he still got no response, "say, wake up!" He made to smack Horsa in the side of the head, but Horsa snapped at him, and missed his hand by a hair.

_Almost,_ Hengest whispered, smiling slightly.

"Now that I've got your attention," Oswald said, seemingly unmoved. "As I said, I have happy news. Your master is willing to negotiate for your lives."

_We don't believe him,_ Hengest whispered immediately.

"Only problem with that is that I need to make sure you keep these lives of course, or our agreement would be quite meaningless." He smiled brightly, obviously pleased with his own wit.

_Remember he said he took no pleasure in our suffering..._ Hengest said weakly.

_We did not believe him then, _Horsa answered.

_This must be a subtle kind of torture. It could not be true..._

_We don't listen to him._

Oswald looked from one to the other, but they looked away from him. "So, distasteful as this is, I offer you a choice," he said. They continued to ignore him. "Do you want chicken or lizard?"

_We will not play his games,_ Horsa whispered, and out loud he said, "We would much prefer you, actually."

Oswald smiled thinly. "Chicken, or lizard?" he repeated slowly.

_This is how he tries to keep us subdued, _Horsa said. _As long as we feed, he can ___

"Chicken," Hengest said hoarsely.

_Hengest?_

"Chicken it is," Oswald said, and left.

_I'm sorry, brother,_ Hengest whispered, tears running down his already tear-streaked face. _I hunger so... I have to feed! I feel like I'm on fire on the inside, like I'll burst apart if we don't..._

_We know, _Horsa answered, and sighed.

_We have to feed,_ Hengest repeated. _We_ have _to have blood..._

Oswald returned, a live chicken in his arms. One of his men followed with another chicken. They were small, scrawny animals with bald necks and twisted legs.

_How can they keep chickens here?_ Horsa wondered.

_Oh, by the blood..._ Hengest cursed, disgusted. The savage approached and held the chicken against his face, his hand around the beak. The creature stank and the thin, feathered neck was the least appetising thing he'd ever seen. _Horsa!_ he called.

"Trink, vampyr," the man barked impatiently.

_Go on. It can't be much worse than the cold sludge you get from the bottle._

Hengest closed his eyes tightly and bit down. This need could not be denied, no matter how disgusted he was. The pitiful creature had little blood to give; he drew it out in a single, big gulp, and screamed mentally.

_Great Kain, this is disgusting! Oh, by all the saints… and their mothers! We can't..._ He retched and coughed, a thin trickle of blood running out of his mouth.

"Don't waste it, vampire," Oswald said threateningly. "You're not getting anything else." Hengest spat on the beams in front of him.

_Can you keep it down?_ Horsa asked.

Hengest groaned and coughed again. _I think so_, he whispered miserably.

"Human, you will have to feed us real blood if you want us to live," Horsa told Oswald. "We cannot subsist off animals, as you can see."

Oswald flashed a quick smile, and grabbed his chicken by the beak, offering it to Horsa. "I won't fall for your tricks, little vampire," he said. Horsa turned his face away from the smelling bird as far as he could, but Oswald kept pressing the filthy feathers against his cheek.. "Do you remember when we captured the short one with the blonde hair?"

_Janis,_ Hengest offered.

"He lasted two months on chicken," Oswald continued, coldly. "So I think you should eat  now that I'm giving you the chance."

_Two months?_ Horsa exclaimed.

_Oh, Janis, oh, Kain's blood!_ Hengest babbled. _Two months! We cannot last two months, Horsa! We cannot last a week on this! We shall go mad, We'll wither like dry fruit! Horsa!_

_Be calm,_ Horsa told him. He pushed back his disgust and bit into the flaccid neck; he knew Oswald was serious. He gulped the blood down, and trembled. _Ugh, you're right_, he told Hengest,_ that is horrid._

_Can we not die of starvation, Horsa? How long before we die of starvation?_

Horsa coughed up the last mouthful of blood and splattered Oswald's face. The mortal smiled humourlessly. _We can't die of starvation,_ he said. _We would go into a bloodfever first, and then, our bodies would start to warp and decay, but still we would not die. Don't you remember Rudig?_

_That's just a story,_ Hengest said, panicked. He was struggling against his restraints, trying in vain to pull free. _He's just a story, he's just a story!_ he shrieked into Horsa's mind.

_Stop it!_

"Don't count on this too often, vampires," Oswald threatened, and left, the second man in tow.

_Oh, Horsa, two months!_

_Poor Janis,_ Horsa said darkly.

_What about us?_

_We hope we don't last that long._ Horsa strained against his bonds to look at his brother. Hengest was still panicked, his face was tearstreaked and his eyes burned brightly. _I'm sorry, my heart,_ he whispered.


	4. 4

"They're my best men, my Lord."

"They are your sons, Anders," Raziel corrected him.

"That, and my best men," Anders insisted. He pushed back his irritation at the lavish decoration of his Lord's rooms. He had this entire suite to himself, and the reception room alone must have cost a fortune to furnish.

Raziel ignored his remark. "And I commiserate with your loss, but you know my position. I do not negotiate. I don't understand why you've even bothered to come here. It sounds like those savages still need your attention."

Anders pressed his jaws together. Obviously, his Lord was not in a forthcoming mood. Yet, he would never forgive himself if he didn't try his damnedest. "I do know your position; we don't make concessions. However, in this case, I think it could benefit us greatly to make a small one. If ever we wanted to give them land, now is the time. They have had a new leader since a few years..."

Raziel made an impatient noise, but Anders continued. "Please, listen! He's different. He's not from the swamps, he speaks the proper tongue and claims his heritage back to Fint Millersson, if you remember him..." his imploring glance was met by two very cold and narrowed eyes. "It doesn't matter, the point is they love him! They will follow him blindly and he is a man of honour."

"Honour?" Raziel spat out. "That swampscum doesn't even understand the word!"

"That's my point," Anders said gently. "He's not swampscum."

Raziel glowered at him. "They are murderers and thieves, regardless of who leads them. They have terrorised the herd for centuries and now you want me to give them a village?"

"The raids will stop, he has given me his word. Is that not what we want?" he asked imploringly.

"No, Anders, we want them brought to justice," Raziel answered, slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "That is what you vowed to do and that is why I sent you down there, to wipe them out, not play hide and go seek for three centuries!"

Anders clenched his jaws tightly together, struggling to contain his anger. Raziel met his furious gaze, wide-eyed, daring him to burst out in violence. "I mean no disrespect, my Lord," Anders said slowly, "but I do believe you underestimate the difficulties caused us by the terrain."

"I never said your assignment would be easy, Anders," Raziel answered, calmly. "I simply told you to get on with it. I can get you more men, if you need them."

"Kain's blood!" Anders swore, his patience finally breaking. "Do you really not understand? The number of men makes no difference, the swamp is impenetrable! The humans have set up traps around their city of almost a mile deep. They can _swim_ my Lord, whereas we can _not_! You could march all the men in Darstein down there and they would all _fail!_"

Raziel's lip curled in a displeased snarl, and Anders knew he had overstepped the line. "Is that so?" his sire asked coldly. "I think you're simply not trying hard enough. I think you're afraid to take risks. Unwilling to accept losses. I think you and your men are getting a little too comfortable there in the south."

"What?" Anders breathed in unfeigned shock. "Comfortable? My Lord, we live in misery! It rains more often than it doesn't, everything is always damp, we can barely feed ourselves, there is nothing..."

Raziel was regarding him coldly, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He was clearly unmoved by Anders' words.

"My men are sick and tired of that festering swamp, we want to come home! Please, make this small concession, we will get them later. Please let them have it!" So there he was. Reduced to begging. And of course, Raziel would still refuse.

Raziel turned away, as if the sight of his son so brought down disgusted him. "Odd. I seem to remember you volunteered for this position." He ran his finger over the frame of a large painting and studied his finger for traces of dust.

Anders hung his head. "I did," he said. "Centuries ago. But how could I have known, sire?" He was still forced to address Raziel's back, and he knew his words were useless. Misery threatened to consume him. "Please," he whispered, though he knew it was no use.

"I will ask sir Marius to lend you some of his men; his division has grown large." Raziel's voice was hard, devoid of emotion. It was the kind of voice that would accept no disagreement. "You will take those men and end this. Forget about the cost, just remember your oath. _Crush them._"

Anders knew he'd lost. Once again, it was given to him to do the impossible. Again, he would lead young, inexperienced vampires to their deaths. Again, the stalemate would remain. He wondered what, if anything, Raziel wanted from him. Did he use the swamps to get rid of excess population? Was it cruelty? Or did he really fail to see...

He realised Raziel had turned back, and was staring at him. "Yes, my Lord," he whispered, his voice sharp with frustration, and, without looking up, slinked out of the room.

  

_Hengest! _

_What? _

_What? Oh, I I think I slept. _

Hengest looked for Horsa's one good eye beyond the curtain of black hair. He smiled. _You did,_ he whispered. _you looked almost peaceful._

Horsa smiled back. _Hold strong, my heart. This suffering will end. _

Hengest let his head hang again, it was the least trying position to be in. _But it can only end in death,_ he said.

_Yes_.

He fought the flicker of hope that had threatened him all through the day. _Raz... _

_Raziel does not care a whit for us, you know that. Oswald lies, I don't know why. Maybe simply to torture us. _

Bloody tears welled in Hengest's eyes. Part of him was amazed that he could still cry; he felt as dry as dust. _To think,_ he whispered, and lifted his head again to look at his brother's ruined face, _that we will never again fight together, that I will never again find shelter behind your shield..._

Horsa looked up, sadness in his eyes. His hand twitched as if it tried to reach out of its own accord.

_That is the greatest pain of all, this hunger is nothing, not compared to that._ Hengest's tears flowed freely now, cutting new streaks over his soiled face.

_I know, my heart. Shush, be still. Someone approaches, don't let them see your tears. _

There was indeed a soft footfall outside. The curtain of dry leaves and vines was swept aside, and a girl entered, a young daughter of the swamp. Her hair was teased back with clips and string; her clothes carelessly revealed the swell of her breasts and a sliver of creamy hip. She was skinny and short, but to the two starved undead, she looked like an angel.

"Oh, honey! Oh, my flower," Hengest croaked, his voice dry and feeble.

The girl glared at him.

"Come here, I want... I won't hurt you," he cooed. "I just want a taste..."

She clearly needed to pass them to get what she wanted, and she hesitated, not convinced that the monsters were really safely bound. They looked at her with brightly burning eyes and hungry, fanged smiles.

_Oh Kain, we can smell her,_ Hengest whispered. _She's..._ "Just a drop, my child, it won't hurt, I promise..." he begged, his lips pulled back in a desperate grimace.

_She's bleeding,_ Horsa confirmed. He had picked up the dark, fleshy smell before his brother had. Normally it would have disgusted him, but now, with this hunger, the smell was intoxicating.

"Let me have it!" Hengest whispered, straining against his bonds. "You've got to! Oh, please, little darling, give me that sweet, rotten blood..."

"Stoppa!" the girl cried, angrily. "Hud otta damei!"

Horsa realised he was drooling. He swallowed, and looked at his brother, who was pulling on the ropes, careless of the pain he inflicted on himself.

"Please, please little flower, just a taste..." he groaned. "Give it to me!"

The girl grabbed a hard, round bread and threw it at him with all her strength. It bumped off his head and rolled on the floor, his perverse pleas interrupted by this sudden insult. There was complete silence for a heartbeat, and then something gave way inside Hengest.

Horsa could actually feel it slip, as if a dam had burst and a flood of incoherent, fantastically bloody thoughts poured forth from his brother's mind. Hengest roared loudly, his face twisted into an animalistic grimace, and he tore at his bonds as though he would rather lose his arms than let them restrain him. The girl backed away, frightened.

_Hengest! Stop it!_ he whispered, but Hengest could not hear him. His mind was boiling with blood-fever, nothing could get through to him now. The nail embedded in his wrist tore through his flesh as he worked part of his arm free. Horsa flinched, he could hear the joint splitting, muscle tearing loose from bone. "Hengest, please! Stop!" he screamed, but it was useless. Hengest pulled his right arm free and turned on the left with the bloodied stump, seemingly unaware that he'd left his hand dangling from the nail. He roared in frustration, pulling on his other arm with short jerks. The girl fled, screaming.

_Hengest! _Horsa called, trying desperately to pierce the blood-haze surrounding his brother's mind. Hengest looked up dumbly, holding up what was left of his right arm. Two pieces of bone were sticking out of the mess of raw, bloodied flesh. _Stop it,_ Horsa begged, tears running down his cheeks.

Hengest howled. The wooden frame he was tied to shook and his severed hand dropped to the floor. The girl had seemed to have raised a general alarm, and soon a small army of swamp-warriors swarmed into the small hut. Hengest greeted them with a hungry roar, his lips pulled back far over his fangs, but he was still mostly bound, his only free limb was useless. Horsa turned away as they started stabbing him with their sharpened sticks. He prayed they would kill him now, but that did not seem to be their intention. When he stopped moving, they tied his free arm to the wooden beam again, wrapping his arm in rough, cutting rope, and then pulled the spears from his torso.

They left him like that, black blood oozing from his wounds, his dead hand lying on the floor with the palm facing up.


	5. 5

Anders stormed through the castle, cruelly shoving a fledgling out of his way. She cried out as she fell from the stairs, but Anders didn't even look back. He hated them. Hated them for all they had, when he didn't. Spoiled wretches with their enormous castle and their luxury clothes... The place had changed again since he was last here. Lavish new tapestries hung on the walls in the main hall, and the old torches had been replaced by hundreds of oil-lamps. He strode down a corridor, screaming in his mind the words he would never say to his Lord.

_Why? What was my crime, Raziel, why am _I_ punished? Why do _I_ have to put my men on the line every night of every year, for an enemy you will never defeat? How can I make you see that what you ask is impossible? Don't you understand? This can easily last three more centuries, and _nothing_ will have changed! Why are you doing this?_

He grabbed an ornate vase, and smashed it against the rough stone wall. It burst apart with an artful crash and the shards scattered over the floor like frightened bugs. It was satisfying, in a small way, and Anders grabbed a second vase. He watched it explode with a desperate grin.

_They're my sons, you wretch! How can you stand there and condemn them to death? _He dropped himself into the alcove and covered his face with his hands. He didn't care about showing weakness anymore, didn't care about decorum. Nothing meant anything, nothing made any difference. Whatever he did, come the evening he would return to the south with a fresh contingent of fledglings, ready to die. Who knew, perhaps two or three would live long enough to learn how to survive.

He thought of his twins, no doubt bound and caged and starving. His proud sons... He groaned loudly. It was undignified, but he didn't care. If Raziel would happen to pass by, he would tell him to his face. He would tell him...

Footsteps approached, strong but rather quick. He went quiet, and willed them to pass, to leave the folded heap of misery in the corner, to pass by and forget, but the footsteps stopped, and the person they belonged to sat down next to him in the alcove. He glanced up. Of course. He should have recognised the little rodent by his footfall.

"Mouse!"

Marius smiled. "Anders, no one calls me that anymore."

Anders wiped his face. "Marius. Sorry."

"No need." Marius touched his arm briefly. "Here to plead the swamp dweller's case again?"

Anders nodded.

"And got the same answer, I take it."

Anders nodded again, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite. Marius sighed. "What is it?" he asked.

"They've got the twins," Anders said blankly.

"Oh!" Marius face fell in sympathy. "I'm truly sorry for that. Those two were... remarkable."

"They're irreplaceable," Anders said mournfully. There was a silence, deep as a well, wide as the road to Darheim. Marius felt cruel to break it.

"I hear you need more men," he started carefully.

"That's what he thinks," Anders said stubbornly. "To be honest, Marius, I don't want your men. They're a liability and I don't need more worries than I already have."

"My men are not incompetent," Marius said, slightly piqued.

"I didn't mean to say they are incompetent, Marius," Anders said wearily, "but they don't know the terrain. They don't know how to wade through a stream, they have never even been inside a barge before..." He turned to his brother, who looked at him in sympathy. "I've seen it a hundred times before, Marius, if they don't know what they're doing, they will get themselves killed. And I do not wish to murder your men as well as my own."

Marius smiled sadly.

"Do you know how many I've lost over the years?" Anders exclaimed. "They number in the hundreds. It's madness!"

"And now Hengest and Horsa," Marius said. "They were your first, were they not?"

Anders nodded, miserable. "Why does he keep doing this, Marius?" he asked, and it took Marius a moment to realise who he was talking about. "Does he really not see it? As long as they live in poverty, they will be forced to raid the villages for food. As long as we harry them back into the swamp as soon as they set a foot outside, they will live in poverty. We are creating our own problem; all we have to do to solve it is relent, but he won't give them a thumbs width! Why?"

"Pride," Marius answered immediately. He seemed to be contemplating the shards of pottery strewn across the floor. "Did you explain this to him?" he asked.

"Yes!" Anders exclaimed, exasperated. "Many times! But he doesn't listen to me. He thinks... I don't know, he thinks I should just stop complaining and learn to swim or something, it's..." he sighed deeply. "It's hopeless. And now you've been told to send your men with me, and there is nothing to be done about it, so let's just..."

"No," Marius interrupted him. "As far as I know, I've only been told to talk to you. So let us talk. Tell me about your solution. What did you propose?"

Anders looked at him, confused.

"You're right," Marius explained, "this is madness. And I have no desire to send my men to their deaths, any more than you do. I will talk to him, try if I can make him see reason. So tell me what exactly you would have him do."

Anders looked at him with a look of such surprise and gratitude that it made him laugh. He closed his arms around his much taller brother.

Anders whispered in his ear. "Thank you, Mouse. You've no idea..."

  

Hengest? Hengest, my heart, are you there? Hengest? 

  

Raziel was reclining on a low couch covered in velvet. A brittle-looking folio rested on his knees and he did not move when Marius entered. Only after a moment did he look up.

"Yes, Marius?"

"My Lord," Marius said, and bowed, "I spent much of the night talking to Anders."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Raziel said dryly, and carefully turned the next page. "I hope he was not too tedious?" He looked up with a conspiratorial smile.

Marius sighed, he did not find this amusing. "You have little love for Anders," he stated.

"He has disappointed me," Raziel said coldly, "consistently." He turned back to his book.

"Did it occur to you, my Lord, that that might be because what you ask of him is impossible?"

Raziel frowned, without looking up. "They are only human, Marius. And I do not appreciate that tone."

"He's not fighting humans, he's fighting a bog, and it's killing him." Marius did not mean to raise his voice, but he could not help himself. Anders' anger at Raziel appeared to be contagious. "He cannot win this!"

Raziel looked up from his book and narrowed his eyes. "I can tell you've been talking to Anders," he said, "you sound just like him. Defeatist."

"He is not defeatist, Raziel, he is right!" Marius exclaimed, his arms sweeping through the air like gestural exclamation marks. "And I am unwilling to sacrifice any more of my men to your pride!" He realised he was shouting.

"Very well," Raziel said, his eyes flashing with anger, "then you may follow my order _unwillingly_. For I _order_ you to pick fifty of your men and send them with Anders to the south."

"He doesn't even want them!" Marius exclaimed.

"Perhaps the problem is of a different nature," Raziel said slowly, his voice sharp as glass shards. "Perhaps I simply sent the wrong man down there. Do you think you could do a better job, Marius?" Finally, he closed his book and put it aside, without taking his eyes from his officer for a second.

"You can threaten me if you like, it doesn't change the facts. The swamp cannot be taken, the savages cannot be defeated, they are out of our reach," Marius said, unmoved. Raziel stood up and drew close as he talked, towering over the short captain, who continued, "Your decision is wrong, and I will not hesitate to tell you. I am not Anders, or any of the others. I am not afraid of you."

Raziel backhanded him across the face, hard. Marius was expecting it, but chose not to ward off the blow, moving with it instead. The pain was nothing. It was only a warning, in any case, but he realised his chances were diminishing with every word he said. He'd angered Raziel, probably so much that he would not now listen to him. He cursed himself, silently. He glanced up at Raziel, who was staring at him, his face impassive.

"Forgive me," Marius said softly and bowed. "My behaviour is undignified." He kept his eyes firmly on the intricately pattered carpet. "I am concerned for the lives of my men, my Lord."

"Understandable," Raziel's voice sounded from above, "but it is no excuse."

"No," Marius agreed, "it is not."

A long silence fell between them. Marius kept his eyes down, even though it made him feel faintly ridiculous. He had known Raziel for centuries, had been his advisor, his friend. And here he was, groveling like a slave before its master. It seemed Raziel felt similarly uncomfortable, for when he broke the silence, it was with a gentle hand on Marius' shoulder.

"Go, Marius," he said softly. "Do as I ask."

Marius lips drew tight. He had promised Anders to try, and now he had ruined his chance with his inappropriate anger. "Raziel," he said, looking up at last, "can I really not seduce you to listen to what I discussed with Anders?"

"Seduce me?" Raziel asked, a slight smile threatening his lips. "I wasn't aware you were trying to seduce me to do anything, except maybe rip you to pieces."

Marius grinned guiltily. "No, I don't think such a seduction would be wise. I fear I would be rather successful."

"I agree," Raziel chimed in, but his eyes were smiling.

"Raziel, I truly believe this plan is sound," Marius said in his most reasonable voice. "And a better idea than trying to take the human settlement by force." _Especially since the human settlement is singularly beyond our reach,_ he added mentally, but kept those words to himself.

"Very well," Raziel said with a theatrical sigh and sat down again. "Tell me about this plan."

Marius thanked him internally for his indulgence. "The humans have asked for a small village near the swamp, one that was sacked several years ago and has been derelict ever since. Anders proposes to let them have it, under very clear conditions. They will no longer raid the surrounding settlements, they will not build any fortifications to protect their village, and they will not expand beyond the border, which is delineated by a low wall already in place." He halted for a moment to organise his thoughts. He decided to avoid the term "free state", which Anders had used quite happily. He feared the term would be offensive to his Master's elegantly pointed ears.

"Yes?" Raziel asked impatiently.

"Under these conditions, they can have their village and be exempt from taxes. It will draw them out of those accursed marshes and allow us at least some degree of control over them. It will also draw men and women from far and wide to settle there."

"Yes," Raziel said skeptically, "and increase resistance against the bloodtaxes. I fail to see the advantage, Marius."

"That's why we've set the borders in stone, Raziel. Soon enough there will be more people than can comfortably live in such a small place. If they breach their boundaries, we punish them and wipe out that nest of rebellion without getting our feet wet. If they do not wish to breach their boundaries, strong, healthy men will be forced to settle in our villages, and mix with our mortals. Think of it as a breeding grounds that is not under our direct control, but can still only be a benefit to us. The herd could do with a little fresh blood, if you ask me."

The look in Raziel's eyes made it quite clear that he did not remember asking Marius, but the energetic little vampire continued, unperturbed.

"Yes, we will have to give our word that we will not harm them, but only those living within the confines that we have set. All we have to do is be patient, for they will not be able to stay within those confines. Who knows, within a couple of generations, they will trade in their special status for more ground to build on, and they will simply be another part of the herd."

"Don't you think that is a little optimistic?" Raziel asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Perhaps," Marius admitted. "But I think the experiment is worth a try. What have we got to lose?" He looked at Raziel and bit his tongue. Actually, he realised, Raziel had quite a lot to lose, if he were to admit he was wrong now, after all this time. Marius knew perfectly well that this plan was nothing new, it was something Anders had first suggested some two and a half centuries ago, it had changed only in detail. He could only hope that his sire would be big-hearted enough to conveniently forget that fact.

"And this is what you've concocted last night?" Raziel asked.

Marius hesitated. This plan was all Anders', but Raziel clearly did not want to take it from him. "This is what we discussed, yes," he said weakly. It was good enough. Raziel nodded.

"Hmpf," he said and thought about this for a while. Marius waited, impatient, pressing his lips together to stifle the helpful comments that popped into his mind. His sharp tongue had done enough damage already.

"Very well, find Anders, I'll discuss this with him."

Marius smiled. "Thank you, Raziel."

His Lord smiled darkly.


	6. Chapter 6

Horsa stared ahead, his vision swimming in and out of focus because of his damaged eye. Not that there was anything to see. He listened to the meaningless babble that poured incessantly from his brother's mind. From time to time, he answered.

_Raziel would not let us die like this,_ Hengest posed without conviction. _If he knew, he would come. He would take us away..._

_I doubt Raziel even remembers us, my heart,_ Horsa answered, and tried to turn his mind away from his twin's deepening madness. He almost wished Hengest would fall unconcious again. Although the silence had been unsettling, and made him feel more lonely than he had ever felt before, this was really no better.

_Kain would come! He can fly though the night on wings of darkness, they say he can walk on water as if it was solid sand! He will set them on fire, burn them, burn them..._

Hengest would not last much longer. Horsa was fighting a losing battle against starvation himself, and Hengest had suffered much graver wounds than he. And lost his hand. It still lay on the rough wooden floor, dry and wrinkled like a dead animal. None of the villagers dared touch it, and they had not seen Oswald in nights.

Suddenly, Hengest's rasping voice broke the welcome silence. "Lord Kain, by your blood, which flows through my veins..."

Horsa cursed aloud, softly but with real feeling. The twins had never turned to Kain in prayer, as some of their companions did. They thought it a sign of weakness, though Hengest had apparently forgotten this.

"Although there's not much left of it I must admit..." Hengest continued, and coughed loudly.

Horsa sniggered.

_I don't even know how the rest of it goes!_ Hengest complained, and coughed again. "Kain," he rasped feverishly, "get off your mighty festering throne to this faithless village and raze it to the ground! Burn!" _I want to die... _he added silently.

Horsa swallowed. His mouth was dry and his eyes stung. For over three centuries, he had shared every waking moment with his brother. Anders had raised them together, and some said he had only used a single soul to animate two bodies. Horsa was unsure if he could outlive Hengest, but the thought that he might find out soon chilled him to the bone.

  

Anders stared at the hairy, torch-bearing multitude on the other bank. A week had passed, it was almost midnight. The stars overhead looked bright, but cold. The humans carried something to the water's edge, two large, unwieldy wooden constructions. With a shock, he realised his sons were bound onto these, two long beams fastened in the shape of an X, their limbs spread out, their heads hanging limply. They looked already dead.

The lower ends of the beams hit the river bank and sank into the mud a ways. They were held up vertically, ready to be toppled into the water. Oswald waded towards the rock unhurriedly, with a savage kind of dignity to his movements. He stood tall, lit from behind by the torches, the fur of his massive collar rippling in the wind.

Anders looked at Hengest and Horsa. Neither gave any sign of life, both looked grievously wounded. If they were dead, would he take back Raziel's offer?

"Human!" he roared above the sound of the river. "What are you playing at, your prisoners are already dead!"

"Vampire," Oswald answered, and bowed. He turned to the men behind him. "Mak dem wake!" he shouted. "Mak dem screien fur sie warman!" The humans started to jostle the prisoners, while the band of vampires on the other shore looked on with uneasy expressions. Suddenly, the fair-haired Hengest began to scream, and struggle fruitlessly on the wooden cross. His screams were meaningless, mostly wordless. There was a ripple of whispers through Anders' small army.

"Anders!" It was Horsa's voice, loud but broken. "Anders! Forgive us!"

Anders breathed out, slowly. Hengest, mad, and Horsa seemed not much better. Yet, they lived. He raised the leather scrollcase in his hand.

"I have here," he started, loudly, "a deed of land, signed by Raziel, Son of Kain, Lord of these lands." The human savages went quiet, and he wondered how much of his language they understood. Above the roar of the water, Hengest's high-pitched wails still continued. Horsa had lifted his head and looked at Anders across the breadth of the ford, frowning as if he did not understand what was happening. Anders realised he was almost blind. "It grants you," he continued, "Oswald, leader of the savage human tribe, the village of Tottery. You may live there, build within the confines of the village, and till the fields surrounding the village. You will be excempt from taxes, and safe from harm."

"Vampire," Oswald said, grinning broadly, "this is a joyous day for both of us. Your Lord will not regret giving us this."

"Your prisoners, Human," Anders reminded him.

Oswald turned around on his rock. "Die vampiri hat us lahnd gegeben!" he shouted exultantly. The crowd erupted in shouting and cheering. "Get dessa tow to andres ower," Oswald growled with a generous sweep of his arm. His men started to haul up the great crosses again, under the general cheering and the shouts of their leader. Slowly, carrying the crosses on their shoulders, they started to wade across the stream.

Anders waved a hand to his left, where the men would reach his shore. "Jules," he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the men crossing the stream, and Oswald, who seemed busy preaching to his followers. The vampires stood back from the shore to allow the humans to land, and put down the crosses. The noises from the other side of the ford sounded distant and drowned out, as the prisoners changed hands without any words, the vampires and humans both wary of each other. But the humans retreated, and Jules opened the first of the bottles they had brought, and emptied it between Horsa's dry and broken lips. Hengest had lost conciousness once again.

One of the carriers turned to Anders, and was handed the deed of land. He did not bow, and was not bowed to. Anders eyed him calmly. Even outside of battle, these men looked like wild animals. They were not like the rest of the herd. He wondered how well they would fare as farmers.

Oswald received the deed and read it by the light of a single torch. It was not long, Lord Raziel had kept the terms as simple as possible, on Anders' insistance. He was somewhat impressed that Oswald could read. He allowed himself a glance at the unfortunate twins. They had both been freed, Horsa was drinking greedily from a skin of mixed blood, Hengest was pinned to the ground and fed, he was thrashing around blindly. Anders feared he would have to be tied again, perhaps for several days while the bloodfever ebbed away, if it did at all. With something close to anger, he turned back to Oswald.

"Vampire, your Lord's terms are agreeable. We accept."

"Then come here so we may shake hands upon it." He stepped forward by four paces, trusting in the special skin boots to keep his feet dry, as he had done so many times before. Oswald came forward, the leather case in his hand. Anders offered a strong, three-fingered hand, and Oswald accepted, but was pulled off balance by Anders who grabbed him by his fur collar with his other hand. "You starved them to within an inch of their lives," he hissed, staring hard into Oswald's surprised eyes.

"It is hard enough to find food for our own, Vampire," Oswald started.

" Shut up!" He stared into Oswald's small, dark eyes for a few moments. "Now that we are all peace-loving men, you will not be needing _this!_" He yanked at Oswald's necklace of vampire bones, and it came loose. He flung it onto the shore behind him in disgust. His face regained its usual calm as he slowly returned Oswald to his feet and released his grip. "We will surely meet again, sir," he said. "Let us hope it will not be as enemies."


	7. Chapter 7

Raziel stood in the centre of the raised dais in the great hall, unsmiling, unquestioned, regal. He wore his ceremonial cape and shoulderguard, and was flanked by Konrad, Axel, Marius and Harald. Anders stood in the crowd, amid the fledgelings and soldiers. Although he and his men had been invited to return to Darstein, there had been no welcoming ceremony. The Andermanne had been given temporary quarters, whole clothes and armour, rather than the swamp-rotten rags they had grown accustomed to, but all of it reluctantly. They had stared wide-eyed at the affluence of castle Darstein, and fledgelings who had lived in this affluence all their lives spat at their feet. Once, over three hundred years ago, Anders had sworn he would wipe out the last free human tribe. He had returned a failure. No circumstances could change that simple fact.

And now he watched as Hengest and Horsa, restored but for Hengest's hand which was slowly regrowing, climbed the first set of steps up to the dais to swear anew their allegiance to Lord Raziel. They carried a gift of their own blood, and knelt on the steps, heads bowed. Horsa spoke.

"My Lord, we who were captured by the human tribe now owe you our blood and our lives."

"We are yours to command, Lord Raziel," Hengest added, "and we will follow you into the depths of hell itself."

The Lord looked almost bored. He gestured, and Konrad stepped forward to accept the twins' gift.

It had been their own idea, and although Anders said it wasn't necessary, they had insisted. "A fact is a fact, he saved our lives," Horsa had said. Hengest had merely nodded, a trace of his madness still lingering in his eyes, the width of his grin. Anders wondered what it was like for Horsa, who listened to his crazed thoughts every night. Perhaps he would be driven insane as well.

"Thank you, my children," Lord Raziel said, commanding his attention again. "You will continue to serve me under the leadership of Anders. I trust this is acceptable."

The twins nodded, and stood, looking slightly lost. _Anders?_ Anders thought. Not captain Anders? Even sir Anders? Apparently not. He shrunk back into the crowd slightly, while the twins moved down the steps and Raziel turned his attention to the next matter at hand. Apparently he was just Anders these days. Fair wages for taking on an impossible task. He sighed. Soon, they would be moving out to the south again, to keep an eye on the repopulated Tottery. He realised with a twinge of sadness that he was looking forward to leaving this place. It was bitter. He had stood with Raziel, and Konrad, and Mouse, at the dawn of the empire, when this place was just a ruin. He had helped rebuild castle Darstein, and now, he was no longer welcome here.

Fair wages. He drew his new, garishly red cloak a little closer around him, and quietly cursed his stars.


End file.
